Free Noble Beginnings by D.W. Jackson Page A

Thea at the
head and Alven and Lyrre occupying seats of honor. Dorran and his
sisters sat across the table from their guests. Dorran, unused to
formal state meals felt slightly nervous but nevertheless he found
himself interested in his aunt and cousin.
    Lady Beatrice Alven was several years older
than Thea. She had had five sons in her first marriage, which had
been organized by her family; of these sons, three had long died in
the war, one was missing, and the other, her second youngest, had
been on the front for three years. She mentioned his achievements
and the ranks he had gained with glowing pride, but Dorran found
himself wondering between her effusions whether she thought she
would ever see her son again, after losing four already.
    When her husband had died, also in the war,
she had remarried. Lyrre was the only child she had of her second
husband before he, too, had been lost to the war. Dorran felt bad
at first, hearing her say it; here was another person for whom the
King's ongoing struggle had cost dear ones. He found himself
feeling rather morbidly glad that Thea at least had two daughters,
and that they were both talented in politics and perfectly capable
of looking after themselves.
    Then, it seemed, she had fallen upon hard
times. Despite the loss of so many family members, Alven claimed
that she had never lost faith in the King's war effort. Eventually,
her donations had accumulated to the point where her old estate
became difficult to maintain, at which point, she explained to
Dorran's sisters with a sheepish blush, Thea had been kind enough
as to offer to take her in.
    Dorran was slightly suspicious of this story
as absolute truth, given the finery Alven and Lyrre were currently
garbed in, but still expressed his polite astonishment at her
generous spirit. Alven basked in the praise for a polite period of
time, then continued the discussion with the others. Dorran began
to notice that somehow, she seemed to enjoy trying to turn the
topic of conversation back to herself.
    He found himself more interested in Lyrre,
though. It seemed as though she was an altogether different sort of
person than her mother. While she seemed to lend a sympathetic ear
to Alven, nodding and pouting at all the right moments, her eyes
rapidly scanned and re-scanned the room, wide with curiosity and
excitement. During a short break in one of Alven's monologues,
Dorran opened his mouth to ask her what she thought of the castle,
but Adhara jumped in before he could, asking her instead about her
gown.
    Lyrre seemed delighted about the question,
and Dorran watched, bemused, as the two girls began talking in very
high-pitched, fast voices about dresses, fashion, decor, and the
castle, in that order. Lyrre was self-deprecating about her old
estate. "It was old and falling apart, and it was too grand for
just me and Mama" she also seemed overwhelmingly excited to be
living in the capital. She praised the elegance of the castle;
Adhara explained sheepishly that they, too, were suffering the
consequences of the war, and apologized for the meager fare, but
Lyrre shot her down, praising everything at the table. Then she
asked sympathetically about the war effort. When Adhara explained
the rationing across Farlan, including the castle, Lyrre praised
Thea in a hushed voice for her willingness to experience hardship
alongside her people instead of forcing more hardship on them in
order to keep up a lavish lifestyle.
    It was undeniably pure politics, Dorran
thought as he watched them, but it was much faster paced and more
excited-sounding than what he usually saw at his mother's councils.
He admitted to himself that he found it altogether intimidating and
a bit on the amusing side.
    Having just concluded this, he jumped and
started to sweat when Lyrre turned her eyes on him. "Lord Dorran,
it's a pleasure to meet you," she said happily. "I think we may
have met before, but I was too young to remember."
    Thinking on it, Dorran concluded that he